


Lost in Lexicography

by cityoflight



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityoflight/pseuds/cityoflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Delphine speaks French for Cosima, and teaches her a little. </p>
<p>"For today, just for today, this was enough."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in Lexicography

The cadence of heavy rain against the window imbued the lovers comfortably nestled in bed with a feeling of pleasant melancholy. The heavier the rain, and the longer it persisted, the less inclined either of them were to get out of bed. Cosima shifted in bed, rolling onto her stomach, burying her face against her pillow in such a way that her voice was slightly muffled when she spoke, “I think you’d call this _ennui_ , right?”

Delphine smirked, though even that slight movement was deliberately languid, as if they had both implicitly agreed to abide by exerting the least amount of effort they possibly could all day.

“Oui,” she agreed, the tips of her thumb and forefinger delicately tracing over Cosima’s lower lip.

“Say something in French,” Cosima decided, after a moment of simply staring at the impossibly perfect curves of her lover’s face, imagining the various angles she could explore and kiss anew.

“What shall I say? You must give me...a _subject_. Inspiration."

Cosima propped herself up on her elbow, though the action wasn’t as swift and mercurial as her movements could often be. She took her time, getting her chin comfortable in the palm of her hand, before fixing her lover with an expression feigning offense; the twinkle in her eye belied any true hurt.

“I’m not inspiration enough? I _kind_ of thought I would be,” Cosima murmured, tilting her head slightly to the side as she spoke the last word.

“Ma chérie,” Delphine immediately soothed, though by the quirk at the corner of her mouth, she was cognizant of the fact that Cosima was merely teasing. “We would be here all day, were I to indulge that request.”

“No, no, indulge. Definitely indulge,” Cosima urged, with a cheeky grin now. “I mean, moderation and temperance are admirable and everything, just. Not when it comes to this. Us. So, wax poetic.”

“Poetic?” Delphine raised an eyebrow. “You give me too much credit.”

Cosima shifted, so her thigh brushed up against Delphine’s, while her hand came to rest on her hip. “You could say anything in French, and I would love it.”

“ _Anything_? Have some standards, mon trésor,” Delphine insisted, stroking Cosima’s lower lip with the pad of her thumb before stealing a kiss.

“I do. I’m with you. My standards are that I couldn’t possibly be interested in someone who wasn’t the most utterly amazing, brilliant, gorgeous woman I’ve known.” The words tumbled out unfiltered, sounding perhaps more cloying than earnest, though she meant it all. Delphine sucked in a breath, holding it there for the count of three seconds as she let the words sink in, let herself really grasp the full meaning.

Then, “You sound like you’re in love.” It seemed too good to be true, and she was having trouble believing she had earned back such esteem. Her own words were risky, and she knew she was treading unsteady ground, but her heart insisted they be released.

Cosima’s expression shifted into something tender, yet tinged with sadness. Part of her was afraid to admit to such a thing not only because of the hurt that still needed time to heal, but her own fears that her illness would catch up with her quickly, and it would seem unfair to cling to something that shouldn’t belong to her; love didn’t belong in the hearts of the dead. She wasn’t, not yet, but she would be.

“Is that what love sounds like?” She finally responded, neither denying nor confirming Delphine’s assertion.

Delphine’s eyes suddenly filled with a look of such absolute love that Cosima’s heart seemed to ache with the pain of its beauty. Cupping a hand to Cosima’s cheek, Delphine leaned close. “Tu es ma joie de vivre,” she breathed against her lover’s skin, as she kissed the corner of Cosima’s mouth. “ _That_ is what love sounds like.”

With silence suddenly persisting between them, and Cosima making no move to reciprocate the touch or the kiss, Delphine worried that she had pushed too much too soon. The other woman remained tangled close to her, but her body was stiff now, and her eyes were devoid of the mirth that had been there only moments ago.

“I could die, Delphine. I could die, and...” Erratically, she shifted onto her back, folding her hands on her stomach and staring up at the ceiling. The room darkened even more, as thunder rumbled in the distance; the tempest afflicting the world beyond them seemed to be a perfect counterpoint to the tumult rippling through Cosima’s mind right now.

Delphine moved closer again, resting her forehead against Cosima’s temple so that her words could fall right against her ear. “I would never allow it. As long as I draw breath, so will you,” she swore, knowing she had no right to presume she held sway over the fate of one human life, yet not caring. They were true words to her, and she could do nothing less than this.

Even knowing that Delphine couldn’t promise something like that, the words seemed to soothe Cosima nonetheless, and she finally turned her head, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Soft, cool lips dragged tenderly across her forehead, her lips, the touch soothing and infused with hope, the promise of days to come where this same touch would fill every second of her day with such light. Finally, Cosima’s eyes opened, and after a deep breath, she smiled, seemingly forcing herself to snap out of the gloom that had seized her.

“Tell me again. What it sounds like,” she insisted.

Delphine nuzzled against Cosima’s forehead, kissing her lips before speaking again, “It sounds like _you_. Tu es mon amour.”

Cosima’s thumb stroked over her cheek tenderly, and she repeated the words back to Delphine. Then, “Teach me something else to say.”

Resting her arm around her waist now, Delphine held her close, kissing her again. “Je veux être avec vous pour toujours.”

“What does it mean?” Cosima queried, her lips lingering against Delphine’s.

“It means...that we are home. That we are where we should be.”

Never once did either woman move to get out of bed; for today, just for today, this was enough.


End file.
